Page 3 of Sweet Duke of Mine

THREE MONTHS LATER

D aisy placed a gentle hand on her father’s shoulder, giving him a small squeeze before shaking him lightly.

“Papa,” she murmured. “Mr. Kemp is here to speak with you.”

Randolph Montgomery stirred, his brow creasing, although he did not rouse from his slumber. He was a sturdy man, thick through the shoulders from years of tilling the land, though time and hardship had begun to carve themselves into the lines of his face. His once-dark hair had faded to an iron gray, and the sun had left its mark on his skin, deepening the creases around his eyes and mouth.

He had fallen asleep in his favorite chair, as he often did after a long day in the fields—exhausted but sated following the hearty meal she had prepared for him.

He carried the weight of their struggles on his back, never complaining, never faltering, even when the land failed them.

Daisy’s stomach tightened. Mr. Kemp was the new estate manager, having taken over less than a month ago, and nothing good ever came from an unexpected visit from a steward .

Two months had passed since the old Duke of Lovington’s death. Two months since everything had changed.

And not for the better.

A poor harvest had plagued them from the start—first the dry spring, then the relentless rains of August. With the season’s yield only a quarter of what it should have been, her father would not have enough to meet his rent.

Which meant trouble.

Lord Calvin, Alastair’s uncle, was still acting as landlord, despite Alastair now holding the title in name.

Daisy swallowed against the unease low in her belly. She had only encountered Lord Calvin a handful of times since that awful day when he had torn through the willow branches and found her with his nephew.

He had not spoken a word of it to her father, but he had not needed to. In the weeks that followed, he’d extended his contempt to her entire family.

And although Daisy knew why he would do this, she didn’t have the heart or the courage to tell her father.

Her father loved her fiercely. She was his only daughter, and he often boasted about her to others, full of pride for the young woman she had become. Daisy could not bear to disappoint him, to tell him that his precious daughter had been caught in an embrace that had cost them more than just her reputation.

Her father had not gone so far as to forbid her from seeing Alastair, but he had, on multiple times, expressed his concern.

Daisy’s shame, along with guilt, hurt nearly as much as losing Alastair had.

The fallout would eventually hurt her entire family so much more.

“Father.” Daisy shook his shoulder using more force, jolting him awake. When he opened his eyes, he pretended he had not been asleep. “Mr. Kemp is here to speak with you. ”

Her father’s mouth pressed into a thin line. By now, neither of them pretended that a visit like this was anything less than a hardship.

“Send him in, Daisy.” He straightened his back, his tone unusually tense as he sent her to fetch the austere gentleman.

“This way, Mr. Kemp.” She beckoned the estate manager to precede her into the parlor.

The room was small, but it was cozy, and a cool breeze blew through an open window. Upon seeing the man to the settee across from her father, she closed the two inside.

But she didn’t return to the kitchen.

In order to know what was coming, so that she might prepare for any troubles that lay ahead, Daisy listened through the wood.

Out of necessity, rather than curiosity.

Because her father, bless him, took to heart his position as the head of the family. He would carry their burdens alone for as long as possible, which would only make matters worse in the long run.

The floor creaked, and she recognized the sound of her father rising to greet the other man. It was the movement of a man whose bones ached from a lifetime of labor.

“Might I ask my daughter to bring tea?”

“This isn’t a social visit, Mr. Carpenter. And you must be aware that Lord Calvin’s patience has been dwindling for some time now. Your rents are in arrears, and this crop looks to be no better than the two years prior.”

Daisy’s heart plummeted.

She couldn’t make out what was said next, as Mr. Kemp’s words dropped to an incomprehensible murmur, but then?—

“A fortnight! But my wife can’t be moved. She’s in the family way. I beg of you. One more season. His lordship will not regret it. I’ll do anything. ”

Daisy swallowed around her suddenly swollen throat. She’d never heard her father sound like this before, desperate, pleading.

Her mother’s late-in-life pregnancy was both a gift and a curse. Because although she seemed well enough, the midwife had ordered her to remain abed through the end of her confinement. And managing the farm without her mother had been difficult.

“You know as well as I that you can’t make good on such promises. The fields are too far gone, and unless you’ve stumbled on buried treasure, you’ve nothing with which to pay your debts. Lord Calvin is allowing you a fortnight to vacate the cottage. With the shift from agriculture to livestock, the estate needs tenants with sons—strong men to do the work.”

Daisy winced as she listened to her father’s continued attempts to bargain with the steward, making impossible promises of future payments, of performing additional work… None of which moved the steward’s position in the least.

“I cannot renew your tenancy, sir. As matters stand, you’re already six months in arrears. I am truly sorry about your wife, but these are his lordship’s terms.”

His lordship? Not the terms of His Grace?

When solid footsteps approached the door, she backed away and silently slipped into the kitchen.

They were going to lose everything.

Not just their means of making a living, but their home—the only life Daisy had ever known.

And Alastair?

He had either forgotten her or deliberately cast her aside, relegating her to his past as nothing more than a fleeting indulgence—a meaningless fling with one of his father’s tenants. Until this moment, she had not allowed herself to believe that. Had not wanted to accept that his silence was a choice .

But it had to be.

He hadn’t even had the decency to write to her. Not a single word. And now, her family’s future was frighteningly uncertain.

She stood frozen, staring at the worn wooden floorboards beneath her feet, listening without moving as her father walked the steward to the door and bid him farewell. Nor did she move when he returned to the kitchen, his heavy footsteps dragging through the quiet house.

“I suppose you heard all that,” he said softly.

Daisy nodded. Of course she had.

Her father sighed, scrubbing a hand over his face. “You mustn’t worry. I’ve already written to my sister in London. She’s willing to take us in.”

London.

Daisy swallowed hard, forcing herself to nod again, though every part of her rebelled against the idea. She didn’t want to move to London. She wanted to stay here in the country, where the air was fresh and the fields stretched wide and?—

Just in case…

Her father cleared his throat and pressed on, his voice unnaturally light. “You can help your Aunt Theodora with her soaps. Perhaps do something productive with those oils you like to mix. Meanwhile, I’ll find a job in one of those new factories. I hear there’s plenty to be made in town these days.”

Daisy’s throat tightened. “But Mother…” she protested. “The midwife said?—”

Her father set his hands on her shoulders, his grip firm, steadying. “We’ll keep her comfortable,” he assured her. “Don’t worry, Daisy. Think of this as a new adventure.”

His eyes were bright. Too bright.

Daisy swallowed down the lump in her throat, but she couldn’t see it—not the way he wanted her to.

What part of this was supposed to be an adventure ?

Being evicted? Forced to rely on Aunt Theodora’s charity? Forcing Mother to endure the journey to London when she was in such a delicate state?

Nothing about this felt like an adventure.

It felt like the end.